Fantastic Metropolis

10

At length they reached the foot of owning nothing. Rifts in the barrier granted egress to a tribe of half witted rock rollers at home in the liquid state. When the weeping ghost pointed out her remains Boppy got his underwater tank and sank beneath the sea decorated with ships. Strange to say the murdered nurse had become entangled on the old cracked dome of a sunken city ten thousand fathoms this way the amphibious vessel went in search of her flesh and bones driven by the doll at full speed they raced along the sands startling a school of low priced electro fish many thousands were killed and many bodies wounded. My Uncle Sam used the long list of annoyances to retire me noisily wideawake as ever running the risk meant life entirely marked out with chalk.

At midnight the grey dormitory blankets turned into wolves. It was instant death to cough. What could I do? I was pilloried for writing low tide mutinies. Ah so you bought it. I have the right to be superhuman—bump—. Expect it of me my friend. I cannot pretend.

She agreed to cut through the great fields of ice to eat up time. One reason why your wife prefers the most heart rending barking of a dog to this dismal story is the people. Good for you panting fat boy jam is even better on docility toast! What on earth is scribbled on this old newspaper? It looks a lot like a map. Here we are. Penguins will tell you fifty different words for Polar bear. We found her lying there gathering darkness.

I wonder who left my dolly at the doctor’s house. Great Boppy isn’t it? Roselin Everso.

11

Despair not a giant walking stick has been attentively photographing the trio all the while. His name is Ocnus the nelumbium. Clambering over the edge of the moon Ocnus was soon fast asleep at the unexpected turn. A stampede of glances pitter pattered past.

So I carved books. There was an opportunity a hundred years ago to jump about the place with dishevelled hair like never before. I thought about you with a sigh racking your brains for money a prisoner of war trying to find something liberating to say. Not that it matters to me. Father you’re a brick I wish I knew. You mean thoughtless destruction can’t be helped. There’s only one vacancy. And besides wild blackberrying this deep in the ruined foundations gives me the creeps. To my horror I just scraped together a twentieth century melodrama that needs cheering up. Take it and go.

If you manage to unravel the crime thank you saddened dispirited her ghost looked imploringly French. Boppy man of few words caught a crab. Earth. Could anything be better?

Gently echoing off key these dotted lines produced a wonderful effect on Miss Delamere two small wings light and ethereal sprang from her back. In a twinkling Miss Everso shook off all pretence of being the victim. A moment later she gave a little cry and escaped from this story.

You keep kicking over my sand castles said Great Boppy so I spat on your point of view.

They were adrift on the open sea dreaming of dried clothes and supper. That reminds me goodbye.